


break the lock if it don't fit (a kiss with a fist is better than none)

by youareiron_andyouarestrong



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: F/M, Love Confessions, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 06:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9870539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youareiron_andyouarestrong/pseuds/youareiron_andyouarestrong
Summary: They are not known for quiet fights, him and Jyn, Cassian thinks tiredly. After their first climatic (and public) argument after the disaster on Eadu, Cassian thinks that might be the first time he’s gotten into an honest-to-Force knock-down, drag-out with someone. He’s kept such a such a tight rein on his emotions for so long he’s almost forgotten what it’s like to have an actual conflict with another person.It does not speak well of him, he thinks, that he is prepared to do anything imaginable for a cause, for the Rebellion, except be honest with someone.





	

They are not known for quiet fights, him and Jyn, Cassian thinks tiredly. After their first climatic (and _public_ ) argument after the disaster on Eadu, Cassian thinks that might be the first time he’s gotten into an honest-to-Force knock-down, drag-out with someone. He’s kept such a such a tight rein on his emotions for so long he’s almost forgotten what it’s like to have an actual _conflict_ with another person.

It does not speak well of him, he thinks, that he is prepared to do anything imaginable for a cause, for the Rebellion, except be honest with someone. 

This was not his choice. It was _never_ his choice, except of course, it was. And now he has to unlearn almost thirty years of conditioning and training. 

This newest argument between him and Jyn allegedly springs from the fact that for the last three missions, he’s asked that she stay on the ship with Bodhi while he makes contact with any possible recruits or informants. The first time, she seemed surprised, but did it without much protest. The second time, she argued briefly. And the third time, she disregarded it altogether and simply followed after him from a distance. He found her (of _course_ he’d found her; he thinks if he were suddenly struck blind, deaf and mute he could always find her) and nearly blew his own cover with the sudden urge to march up to her and chew her out for such blatant insubordination. Once they were back on the ship, he’d promptly proceeded to do so. “I didn’t bring you along so you could defy me,” he’d said and the _look_ she’d given him in response could’ve split rocks. 

“What else am I of use for?” she’d spat at him and honestly, he’d wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her until her teeth rattled. 

He did not want her for what kind of _use_ she was; he wanted her for her strength and her conviction and her fire, for her sarcasm and dark gallows humor and her flashes of kindness and sudden gleams of a light like stardust in her eyes. He wanted her merely for the _sake_ of wanting; so much had been given up in the name of the Rebellion, but he wanted this, he wanted her, with all the pent up selfishness and possessiveness in a crooked heart like his could bear. 

Now, now, now, he looks at her, glowering at him, teeth bared and jaw clenched as they head back and he thinks of cornered wolves, he thinks of desperate last stands and a promise he made: _welcome home._

She could knock his teeth out with one swing of her truncheon, but he kisses her anyways, all teeth and fury and her hands fist in his hair hard enough to hurt. He wonders if it will be always be like this between them, pain and fury and desperate connection and tenderness all twisted up together like wires, and hopes ( _hopes_ with everything in his crooked heart) that one day, he gets the chance to find out if they can manage to find a new way, a better one.

Her back is to a wall and he’s practically got her legs around his waist, to make up for their height difference. She gives his lower lip a sharp bite and he hisses into her mouth, pulls away far enough to look into her face.

He could drown in those eyes, he thinks. Drown and go happily, content to never come up for air. “I don’t want you because you’re _useful,”_ he tells her and tightens his grip on her thighs as she stiffens against him. “I want you because I’m _better_ with you,” he says and this is–this is not anything grand confessions are made out of, but he hopes to Force that it’s enough, that she understands, this is what he can give her, this is what he can offer and maybe it’s enough. 

She stares at him searchingly, stardust eyes gleaming, and then she goes soft against him and that might be enough to melt any self-preservation he might still have right out of him. 

“I watch your back,” she tells him seriously, “and you watch mine. Okay? _Let_ me do that because I _want_ to. Alright? I’m not a droid, don’t expect me to just blindly follow orders.”

“Have you _met_ a single droid that blindly follows orders?” he asks her and her mouth curves like a new moon with amusement.

“Not any in the Rebellion,” she agrees and because if Jyn Erso does nothing else, she _fights dirty_ , she leans forward and takes his lower lip into her mouth, the one she’s bitten, and runs her tongue softly over it. “Let me help you,” she says and he’d overturn the Empire, burn down the Rebellion, just to keep her like this with him. 

It does not alarm him as much as it should.  


End file.
